


Headshot

by pinkladypoison



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Overwatch - Freeform, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Furniture, Vaginal Fingering, big guns, catsuits, sniper sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkladypoison/pseuds/pinkladypoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaper and Widowmaker devise a new strategy for aiming Widow's gun while on a long stakeout. Reaper takes this opportunity to thoroughly unseat the sniper's concentration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headshot

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I sincerely don't like Blizzard's use of a "mind control/sleeper agent" canon for Widowmaker as it makes writing smut about her incredibly gross. As such, please take this as a head-canon version of Widowmaker where she is fully in control of her mind and opted to join Talon after her husband's death for her own reasons. Honestly, I find it pretty believable that Widowmaker could have a reason we have not been canonically provided for defecting and murdering her Overwatch-based husband, given the corruption and poor management near the end. 
> 
> Also, imagine the dialogue is heavily accented French on the part of Widowmaker. I don't want to torture readers with having to read phonetics.
> 
> This fanfic was directly inspired by this fanart by Njike: <https://twitter.com/njikeartist/status/748349670632611840>

"This was a terrible choice. I can barely see up into the other building and there's no place for me to rest my rifle." Despite her visor being down, Reaper could tell that Widowmaker was rolling her eyes.

The pair, a good portion of the Talon organization, were on a stakeout of another relic that Reaper had assured his associates would be valuable for the group, provided it could be obtained. It was a simple job and only required the two of them to wait for the opportune moment - a guard change, a weakening of the security system, something. The only kink in the plan was that this moment had not presented itself yet, and the only building in sight range of the office where the trinket was being kept had no cover or even ledges for which Widowmaker could use as a sniper perch. So, as it was, they had to sit and wait.

Amelie didn't mind so much, even if she always pretended to hate everyone and everything in her immediate vicinity. Gabriel, or Reaper, as he was known as now, was pleasant enough company, especially since he didn't like to chat too much. Small talk bored her out of her mind and reminded her of parties she was forced to attend, empty phrases and pleasantries looping around everyone's tongues. The only thing that was unnerving about him was his voice modulator in his mask. She would always make him take it off, when they were alone, in the darkness; she liked to touch her cold fingers to the scars--

"Widow." The slightly robotic voice intoned.

"Merde!" She hissed quietly, broken out of her reverie. 

She could see some movement in the building window they were directly across from but she had no way to stabilize her gun. She shuffled a little on the balls of her feet, trying to prop it against one of her legs but it was large and heavy. If only she had a tripod instead of forgetting it back in the hotel room, like so many things that had slipped her mind after the night prior. She dropped her visor back down to get a fix on the heat signatures inside - the movement appeared to be only part of cleaning staff but there could be more, even this late. She once again tried to steady the over-sized rifle again to sight it correctly and couldn't. There was nothing in reach but there was _someone_. 

"Reaper, over here, get down on your hands and knees." Her lip curled most deliciously at the command, having uttered it a few times before in the past in much different circumstances. He growled slightly and did so, facing away from her. She brought her rifle down but the thick hood and head contained within was impeding a full range of motion with the barrel and this simply could not do now that a patrolling guard had shown up in her view.

" _Non_. Turn around." 

Another robotic grunt and he almost did so, but not before leaning in very close to her face, obscuring the magnified night vision in her visor. She gasped suddenly and she could hear Reaper gruffly chuckling a moment before leaning over to once against resume the position, but this time tipping himself farther down and resting on his arms. He felt the weight of the rifle hit his back but he noticed Widow was still on one bent knee. 

"Get down, this will be more stable." He elbowed her knee, indicating it should be splayed her other leg. She jostled a little with the motion and with a *oof!*, came down flat on her ass, both legs out. 

Suddenly, it all felt a bit more comfortable - the gun was leaning against his back and able to be moved and his head was now slightly lower than his rear, meaning the upward angle would put her sights in the perfect place to take any enemies out with ease. He could feel his mask and cowl pressed into her body, the curve of her thigh and stomach cradling him. If she had a normal temperature, he was sure he'd feel the heat of her skin all around him. As it was, her coldness did not put him off. They were both creatures trapped somewhere in-between mortality and death, unliving and unfeeling. 

" _Fuck!"_  He felt her abdomen sharply exhale as she cursed.

"What?"

"The cleaner has a whole group now." 

"Why does that matter?" 

"You know how I feel about _civilians_." Her accent snaked around that last word. 

Reaper twisted with that logic; she had no concerns, moral or otherwise, about taking out high value targets at a moments notice, but for some reason, collateral damage of the human kind was unacceptable. It was a quirk of hers. Even as she shot down Tekartha Mondatta, she had grazed no supporter in the crowd. 

"I guess we wait." She held her position, unmoving. She was known for watching a spot for hours, with barely even an eyelash shifting in a strong wind. 

Reaper was not content to be a sniper's tripod for another hour, however, but as he turned his head to get up, he pressed his mask into her lower stomach and felt overcome. He remembered the night before --

\-- her gloved arm around his neck, pulling at his ear with her teeth as she stroked his cock firmly, her hand cold but soft _and_ \--

and decided that turnabout was fair play.

He growled a little as he pushed his mask up against his forehead and pressed his face firmly between her legs, nuzzling his face into the vinyl catsuit that covered most of her body. She made a confused sound in response.

"W-what are you doing?" He pressed harder, wrapping his arms under and around her thighs, grinding nose and mouth into her crotch. Her question trailed off as she gasped a little indignantly and yet still let her rifle rest on the ground when he started dragging his teeth against the pliable material. Everywhere he touched felt like tiny sparks were crawling along her skin and she shivered. There were some benefits to wearing impractical vinyl after all. His thick thumb came up and started slowly rubbing into her as well and just the tiniest pressure teased at her mercilessly through the suit. Reaper idly wondered if she was wearing underwear at all under there, knowing he'd have to find out for himself. 

Using the leverage he already had on her thighs, he pulled her close and turned her around, his arms holding her body back to him while being on her knees. He peeled the suit ever so gently off her shoulders, all in service of releasing it's death-like grip on her curves. Widowmaker felt a current of anticipation run through her body when she saw Reaper silently pull his armored gloves off; she wasn't surprised when his teeth grazed her neck and she felt a hand run down her front - fingers expertly getting between the suit and her skin. He slid down her stomach, pushing the zipper down lower and lower.

 _She is wearing panties_ , he discovered, almost laughing to himself. They were obviously expensive and highly ornamented, somehow comfortable but mostly for the purpose of feeling good with them under what you were wearing. His hand, tightly sandwiched between her catsuit and her skin, slipped into the gauzy fabric of her underwear. Both of them sharply exhaled when his fingers reached their goal - the build-up was intense. His fingers were slightly scarred but he still had an excellent sense of touch; there was short, manicured hair that was almost too soft, the skin underneath them softer. He parted the lips as if he was opening a delicate suede purse. Widowmaker gasped when he started gently teasing her clit with his middle finger, fingers to each side stroking her labia. She was wet already, her body belying what she rarely communicated to Reaper himself but that he knew all too well. The scratches and bite marks all over his thighs from the night before were proof of that. 

When he finally hooked a finger into her, sliding easily, she could feel her breath and heart start to quicken, the outside world going blurry to the delight she was feeling right now. It wouldn't have mattered much if someone had seen them. One of the side-effects of Reaper's long coat was that it was a nice sight block for anyone who happened to also be on a neighboring rooftop but no one was. He was free to explore her body as much he wanted with anyone knowing the better, and that made it so much more arousing to her. People would assumed that deep down she was an exhibitionist but performance always left her cold and empty inside. She chuckled at her own joke before gasping as Reaper began rhythmically penetrating her. His hand, curled just so, kept rubbing up against her as his finger explored deeper. 

"No noise, maintain your position." His voice was not brusque, but teasing, real and slightly scratchy. He slowly slid his fingers out of her suit to bring them up to her mouth, rubbing her lips with her own juices. She sucked on it eagerly, her tongue gently flicking his fingertip while he slid his other hand into her suit to re-engage this delicious agony. Reaper was enjoying this as well, watching the assassin who all too often took charge in these situations, melting to butter under his adept hands. He bumped his hips into her suit-clad ass, hoping she could feel his own delight there too. His fingers kept dipping and out of her pussy, his thumb working her clit in circles. She couldn't think straight and reflexively moved her hips in time with his hand. She also knew that this would tease his obvious erection as well. Even in the throes of arousal, she still needed some way to playfully torture him in kind. 

He sensed this, especially as he felt her body flex and writhe more. He suddenly began to lean her over, removing his hands from what they were doing to start pulling her suit all the way off. He rolled it back, down her body until it crested the swell of her ass. She rested on her arms and knees, his hands cupping the thickness where her bottom and thighs met. They navigated up and she felt overwhelmed as they danced up her spine, finally tangling in her long ponytail, pulling her head back ever-so-much. 

_"Amelie."_

Her eyes opened for a moment, then softened. 

"Gabriel?"

A few moments later, after a quiet bit of jangling, she felt his cock slide between her thighs. The restriction on her legs from the suit made it feel great for both of them, Reaper slowly taking a few strokes against her skin, her wet lips. It was almost maddening, especially with her tiny sighs that she let out in spite of herself. He tried to not let his excitement get too overwhelming as he pulled on her hair, as she pressed his cock against her dripping sex so he could continue teasing her clit. He kept himself nestled between her lips, her fingers dancing against the head of his penis. He bit his lip quietly and renewed his grasp on her hair, stroking the back of her head with one hand. 

"I want you," She purred. He wouldn't dream of saying no to her, especially not in that moment.

Widowmaker arched when she felt his cock slide inside her, so warm to the coolness of her own body. It almost felt like she was fully alive again and she ached for both sensations. He was slowly thrusting, constantly using his grip on her head to keep her body tense. She loved every second of it, especially when his other hand came down from her hip and began stroking her clit again. She panted hard, already feeling herself dancing along the edge, as if she were to fall off a brightly lit stage into the warm, seductive darkness of her pleasure. 

Slowly, as she also moved in time with his strokes, Reaper felt himself losing control, leaning farther and farther over. He relinquished his grasp on her to completely take her doggy-style; his long coat fell over both of them. She loved how his thighs kept pressing hers closer together, to the point where her thighs were completely enveloping his cock. She took the weight off her arms and pressed her face down to the ground, letting him have the full intensity of the position. They were both trembling, and only these things were communicating the subtle interchange of power between them but it was obvious that it was merely a feint - in their pleasure they were equals. 

The thrusting grew faster and she felt herself tighten all the way inside, the crashing and wildness of both their bodies as they both peaked in that moment. She could swear that just for a moment in that confusion that the edges of his body grew wispy, like smoke coming off a too hot engine. He groaned with her tiny panting until the last gasp. 

They both rolled over to their sides as the night sounds rushed back in and awareness of where they were came back into view. Yet, Widowmaker still felt content to just lay there, Reaper behind her, both of them swathed in the tails of his coat. They caught their breath together, saying nothing, until Widowmaker caught the light glinting off one of Reaper's gloves. 

"Merde! How long has it been?" She started hastily trying to get up, pulling her suit back on and almost losing her balance. She brought her visor back down to read the interior of the building they had been tasked to watch, but now it was mostly dark and it seemed that no one was there. 

"Good thing we killed a little time then." 

She smirked and picked up her gun as both of them got ready to take the building, a smile on both of their faces. 

 

 

 


End file.
